Reblogs and stuff!

the day after actual tony stark saw them hanging out in frony of the Tower, some of the kids were reluctant to go back there but God they had to finish their homework and the tower was on their way from school so they go back there and

theres a separate room that surely mustve been some important part of the lobby yesterday but now had a “Free WiFi Zone” plate on the door. Inside were huge sofas and armchairs and beanbags, fridges stocked with various drinks, a coffee maker and 20ish iron man mugs, a couple of laptops on the desk near the wall and a note for them to read:

It started with Wi-fi. Wi-fi of all things. Tony found out by accident.

“What’s going on out here?” Tony asked, sliding his sunglasses down a bit to look at the group of teenagers sitting in front of the Tower.

All the teens looked up at once, eyes wide like deer caught in headlights. They looked at each other, then back at Tony.

“Um, well…” A brunet spoke up, closing his laptop. “The Avengers Tower has great Wi-fi, sir. And it’s free. We all… some of us don’t have access to Wi-fi at home, and we need it for school projects.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. Okay. Study hard, then.” He adjusted his sunglasses again and walked into the Tower without a second thought.

But later that day, Tony keeps thinking about it. Can’t get it out of his head, until he goes so far to have FRIDAY pull up security camera footage from in front of the Tower over the past few weeks.

There are kids there, always, Tony finds. Anywhere from ten to nearly fifty, all crowded around the Tower, sitting on the grass. Even at night or in shitty weather, there were at least a few.

And sure, Tony was fine with it. More than fine with it, even. If kids wanted to use Tony’s Wi-fi, he on board with it. Tony was completely with the idea of accessible technology.

So it hung out in the back of Tony’s mind, and he smiled at the group of the teens he saw every time he walked in and it the Tower. He made sure security didn’t bother them, and left them to their devices.

But the thoughts of it wouldn’t leave Tony’s brain. A part of him ached a little at the idea of the kids who were so needing of a damned Wi-fi connection they would sit in the rain for it. It got to the point that Tony was lying awake in bed, thinking about it.

“FRIDAY, are there any vacant floors in the Tower?” Tony asked, staring at the ceiling.

“There are three vacant floors,” FRIDAY answered in a chipper voice.

Tony sat up. “FRIDAY, order a shit ton of junk food and furniture. We have work to do.”

And so it began. Within a week, Tony had a large room on its own floor completely dedicated to being an expansive lounge. It had all sorts of furniture, shelves stocked with every food Tony could think of, a fridge full of drinks, an espresso machine, and over a dozen outlets. It was close to the bottom floor, easily accessible by the elevator. Tony talked to Happy and reorganized his entire security so that anyone could walk into the Tower and go straight to the lounge.

The first day, there were already over twenty teens milling around, laptops plugged in and noses in books. It made Tony smile and feel warm in ways he couldn’t describe, seeing the tranquil environment of kids studying. The numbers grew over time, and Tony made sure it was kept accessible 24/7.

So it started with Wi-fi. But after that, things got more… complicated.

Tony was in the lounge, taking an inventory of what needed to be restocked. Sure, he had people for that, but it was nice to show his face every so often, remind the kids he existed.

Tony finished writing down how many bags of Doritos were on the shelf and spun around, crashing right into someone.

“Oh fuck,” Tony stumbled, catching the person by their elbows. A pair of startled green eyes stared up at him in horror. “Hey. Hi.” Tony smiled. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t looking where I was going. My fault.”

The girl stared at him, breathing hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Hey, no. My fault, remember?” Tony soothed. “I’m responsible for at least fifty per cent of the accidents in this Tower.”

“Actually, you’re responsible for sixty-seven point nine per cent.” FRIDAY chirped.

Tony frowned. “Is that counting the incident on Thursday?”

“You did hold fifty per cent of the blame.” FRIDAY reminded him.

“Twelve per cent, at most,” Tony argued. He looked back at the girl. “Thor tried to put a raw egg in the toaster, it’s a long story.”

The girl gave a confused, shy smile. Tony counted that as some kind of victory.

Tony went to let go of the girl’s elbows when his gaze brushed over her forearm. “Hey.” Tony’s voice was softer. “Are you okay?”

The girl froze again, biting her lip. “No- it’s fine, I don’t-” Her face turned red. But not as red as the angry lines cut into her wrist.

“You wanna talk?” Tony asked, eyebrows knit together.

“You-you’re busy I shouldn’t-”

“FRIDAY, cancel the afternoon meeting. Or tell them I’m not coming,” Tony said without hesitation. “There, I’m free.”

The girl frowned. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s fine, really.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, kid. Let’s talk, okay?” He sighed at her hesitance. “Hey, what’s the worst I can do? I’m just some rich guy.”

With a begrudging smile, the girl took Tony’s hand and Tony lead them to an empty storage room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

“What’s your name?” Tony asked.

“Cecilia,” The girl mumbled.

“Hi, I’m Tony.” Tony introduced with a bright smile. Cecilia laughed. “So you wanna talk about this?” He pointed to her wrist.

“I…” Cecilia cleared her throat. “It’s hard, you know? School is hard, and I’m not good enough to do anything right, and…” She swallowed. Cecilia covered her face, choking on a sob.

Tony scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You wanna know something, kid?”

Cecilia looked up.

“I am one of the richest men alive, have been named Sexiest Man Alive three times, have my last name attached to a fortune five hundred company, have been called one of the leading minds of the 21st century, am a member of the goddamned Avengers and…” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “And I feel the same way. All the time. I wake up worried that someday everyone’s gonna see through me, see the fraud I really am.” Tony cleared his throat. “I have anxiety attacks. I wake up screaming from nightmares. I avoid mirrors. And some days I don’t want to wake up at all.

"But I do. Because there are people who need me to. And maybe it’s more for me than you. But it’s not about numbers. Quantity holds no value the quality. As long as there’s one person who cares, you’ve got a reason to wake up in the morning.” Tony thought a moment. “And if you’ve got no one else, then I count, right?”

There was a long stretch of awkward silence, but the shy smile Tony got made it all worth it.

After that, Tony invested in having free, confidential, no strings attached therapists at the Tower for the kids who came to study. He started with five, but by the end of the month, Tony had seven full time and three part-time working at the Tower. Tony did briefly see Cecilia’s face every now and then, and she seemed happier. That made it all worth it.

After that, everything was a downward spiral. Someone put a suggestion box on the door, and the teens who stayed wrote their ideas down. Tony read every single one. Even the stupid ones. And he listened.

First, there were showers installed in the bathrooms. Tony noticed there were certain faces that showed up more than others, so often it was almost concerning. So Tony figured they might as well freshen up while there. The showers were equipped with towels, soap, and all other necessities.

After the showers came the storage room filled with other living supplies. Blankets, food items, clothing, some basic tech, gift cards for local supermarkets, toiletries. Anything Tony could think of required for living. Like everything else, anyone could take anything, no questions asked.

Then came the library. There were suggestions for a supply of the review books and textbooks for the classes students were taking, and Tony decided to go in all or nothing. The library was filled wall to wall with every modern textbook and review book in the curriculum, as well as an expansive amount of leisure reads as well. Tony stocked it with comfortable seating, computers and tablets as well. There were no late fees, Tony refused to make any of the kids pay a damned dime for things they should have basic access to.

And then there were physical doctors as well. Ones who could give flu shots and prescribe at least the most basic of medications and advice.

After that, the gym just seemed to be common sense. As the recommendations in the box pointed out, public gyms were expensive. So Tony set up a gym. Granted it wasn’t Avengers level, but it was a damned nice gym.

Tutors came next. Private tutors, as well as ones that would teach entire groups. Tony managed to wrestle with the local schools to even get the kids credit for some of the tutorings.

After that, things finally seemed to mellow out. Tony drew up a list of rules, but most of the teens were pretty decent about keeping things civil. Tony was damned proud to average only one incident a month.

The Avengers found out about the Student’s Lounge as it’d be dubbed, and they frequented it more than Tony expected. He found Clint down there telling stories that were probably classified, Natasha showing a group of girls ballet moves, Thor showing off trinkets from Asgard, Steve drawing with a group of art kids, Sam giving serious talks on mental health, and so on. It was nice.

And it worked. Kids were happy and studying, but also had a place to relax and unwind. Tony did have to get an ungodly number of permits and licenses to do what he did, but it was all beyond worth it to see the kids smiling and being safe.

It was a year later when Tony was working in his workshop with jeans and a tank top and FRIDAY caught his attention.

“Mr Stark, your presence has been requested in the Student’s Lounge,” FRIDAY said, cutting into the silence.

Tony frowned. “Is it an emergency?”

There was a pause. “No, but the students are rather insistent.”

“Fine.” Tony stood up with a sigh. “Tell them I’ll be down there in a minute.”

Tony took the elevator down to the floor that was now entirely monopolized by the Student’s Lounge. As soon as the doors opened he found himself standing in front of a few dozen teens, all crowded around and waiting.

“Is this some club meeting or a cult initiation?” Tony asked, sliding his grease-covered hands into his pockets.

A teen stepped forward, a blond boy with bright eyes and a nervous smile. “Uh, hi. We… we had something we wanted to share with you.” He was holding note cards, absently tapping them.

Tony glanced around. “Well then, shoot.” He spread his hands.

The blond cleared his throat, looking down at the cards. “We hear the saying a lot,” He read, “that it’s impossible to shop for a man who has everything. And with you, that couldn’t be more true. A genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and an amazing person all around. You truly have everything, Mister Stark.

“And yet, you give. You give, and you give. You gave us a place to study that became so much more. Beyond the material items, this place has become a home for all of us. For those of us who don’t have food to eat at home, books to read, clothes to wear, a family to come home to. All because you wanted to give some kids a good Wi-fi connection. You created a family. This year alone, the graduation rate grew ten per cent from last year, and we don’t think it’s a coincidence. And we’re all confident with your help, that number will grow more and more.

“You created jobs for the community. We did the math and figured at least fifty new jobs were created through the Student’s Lounge. And you pay for all of it out of pocket. You don’t need to. You’ve already saved the world more than enough times, given millions of dollars to charity. And yet you did this for a group of kids sitting on your front lawn just to get a decent Wi-fi connection.

“There are no words to describe the kindness that takes. The amount of time you’ve put towards this proves it’s so much more than a publicity stunt. Not only do you personally oversee everything, but you stop by weekly, even if just to say hi. You listen to what we have to say. In a world that makes it so easy to ignore teenagers, you put every ounce of effort into doing the complete opposite. And your effort didn’t go unnoticed.” The blond stepped aside and let a redhead girl stand in the middle instead.

“My name is Miranda.” The girl spoke up. “A year ago, I was addicted to heroin and struggling in all of my classes. I was… I was ready to drop out of school altogether, even considered selling my own body just for drug money. But a friend dragged me here and… and I got therapy. A doctor. Food. All things my family struggled to afford. My recovery is still slow going, but thanks to you, I can say I’m in recovery, to begin with. Thank you.” Miranda stepped to the side and a black haired boy took her place.

“I’m Ian. My parents abused me, and I had nowhere to go. Even after coming here to spend my afternoons, I was hesitant to overstay my welcome. But I wasn’t ever judged, and always felt safe here. I was able to work up enough courage to run away and start spending nights here. Eventually, I met a friend here who let me stay with them, but not once did I have to know how it felt to be homeless. This place was my home, the entire time, even now that I sleep somewhere else. You gave me a home. Thank you.”

And so it went on, each kid telling their own version, and Tony wasn’t even ashamed to admit he was openly crying before they even got through ten. And he listened. To every single one. Tried to remember names and important details, make mental notes for future reference. Tony watched and listened, entranced by every story.

The first boy stepped back up. “And I’m Ben. I don’t really have a sob story, but I do know that this place is a home for every single person here. We’re a family of brothers and sisters, and you’re, for lack of better wording, the cool dad. So thank you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. So much. We hope our family can grow, and this home will only get better with each day. So while we don’t have any gift, we hope this can stand as one. Our stories are something that you gave us, and we hope by sharing them you can understand how much you mean to all of us.” The boy, Ben, lowered his notecards and smiled. “Thank you.”

Tony stared at them, wiping tears away from his eyes. “You’re all assholes.” He decided. “I am supposed to be a suave billionaire, and here you’ve got me crying like a dumbass.”

The teens all laughed.

“You know what?” Tony clapped his hands together. “This deserves a pizza party. Domino’s is about to hate me. Does anyone have any dietary restrictions? Start writing up a list while I find a phone number.”

“Don’t you have stuff to do?” A brunette girl who Tony remembered to be Cassie asked.

Tony shrugged. “It’s fine, I’ll do it in the morning.”

“Miss Potts has asked for the schematics to be uploaded by midnight,” FRIDAY spoke up.

“Pepper has been working for me long enough to know ‘by midnight’ means by noon the next day. It’s fine.” Tony waved off. “Come on, start writing a list. If I don’t see at least one gluten-free pizza, I’m making you do it again.”

“This time?”

OMG I LOVE IT

Guys, I would tell you if I had a son

The first time the Rogues figured out that Tony was hiding something was during one of their meetings discussing the New Sokovia Accords.  The Accords had been revised while the Rogues were on the run and they still need some tweaking even after the Rogue Avengers had been pardoned.  So, not long after the Rogue Avengers came to the Compound, they scheduled a meeting with the new Secretary of State, Tony, and Rhodey, and began to hatch out the mistakes of the old Accords and what to add to the new one.

“We’re not making small-time heroes like Spider-Man and Daredevil reveal their identities if they don’t want to!” Tony argues, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.  He glowers at the new Secretary of State who suggested that they keep the superhero registration system that also conveniently revealed who the superheroes were.

“That’s not what I was suggesting, Mr. Stark,” the new Secretary of State Thomas Ellis’s hologram says.  “All I was saying was that all superheroes should be registered under the Avengers Initiative and will be called into the bigger battles if they are needed.  Their names would not be disclosed to the public and they will not be crowned as an Avenger unless all of the current Avengers agree.”

Tony, now assured that Peter’s identity will be kept a secret until the kid decides to reveal himself, sits back down in his chair next to Rhodey and Natasha.  “Why are you protecting that kid, Stark?” Sam asks, looking at Tony with a perked eyebrow.  Tony glares at Wilson and just manages to stop himself from standing again.

“Because he’s a kid,” Tony stresses, using Sam’s words against him.  Sam opens his mouth to make a retort but is cut off when Tony’s watch suddenly flashes red and blue.  Tony feels his face pale and he immediately taps his arc reactor that happens to be concealing one of the first prototypes of his nanotech suit and gestures for Friday to open the window.

“Tony, what–?” Steve is cut off when Tony blasts out of the room full tilt.

“What’s going on?” Ellis asks, sounding bewildered.  The remaining Avengers, save for Rhodey who knows what the watch means, exchange glances.

“We don’t know,” Steve says, sitting back down in his chair next to Sam and across from Natasha.

The second time Tony is caught hiding something-slash-acting suspicious was a few days later on Friday at noon.  He has a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he scrambles around the common room, grabbing papers at random.  The team had seen scraps of notebook paper with complicated looking equations on them sitting around for a few days, but since they’re still very iffy with Tony, they just ignored the papers and didn’t touch them.

“I don’t see the papers you’re talking about!” Tony mutters into the phone, stepping around Natasha who’s sitting in a nearby armchair with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Black Wid-oreo’ ice cream.  A few moments of illegible mutters and Tony stops, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Pete, I can’t hear you!  Why are you even calling me while you’re in the cafeteria?  It’s not like I have super hearing!”

A few more moments go past with Tony waiting for whoever is on the other line to move to somewhere quieter.  Some clearer but still illegible mutters and Tony bends down next to the couch, pulling a few papers from under it.  “Who the hell sticks metal alloy equations under a couch?” Tony mutters to himself, tossing all of the papers into a red and blue folder.  The team just watch as Tony heads into the elevator and disappears behind the doors.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sam asks Steve–who is sketching from a love seat next to Natasha’s armchair–and Natasha who’s nearly finished with the ice cream named after her.

“Language,” Steve comments, not even looking up from where he’s sketching the Compound.  “And it’s not our business who Tony talks to.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Sam says, throwing his arms up in exasperation.  “Don’t tell me that you're not interested in who he was talking to?  And what about the other day during the meeting when he sped off in that new suit of his?  What do you think, Nat?”

“I think the two are connected,” Natasha says, sticking another spoon of ice cream in her mouth.  Why does Stark even have ice cream named after me in his freezer? Natasha thinks to herself before sticking another cookie loaded spoonful in her mouth.

Before anyone else can speak, the elevator doors ding open, revealing Tony in a pair of jeans, a band-t, and one of his jackets.  He’s still on the phone as he heads into the kitchen.  “What do you want me to bring?” the group hears him say into the phone from the living room.  A few seconds past and Tony snorts.  “Really, kid?  Skittles?  What are you, ten?“  The team can barely hear a muffled “Hey!” from the phone as Tony heads towards the elevator, a large bag of skittles in his hand and his phone in the other.

Tony turns to the group.  “Okay, gotta go, Pete.  See you soon,” Tony says, not even waiting for a response as he hangs up.  “I’m leaving for the weekend, so don’t break anything or do anything stupid.  Got it?”

“Where are you going?” Sam asks, trying to dig for some information.  Tony just lifts an eyebrow, whips on his shades, and says:

“Nowhere that you need to concern yourself with.“  Before anyone can say anything, Tony jumps into the elevator.  "Bring me to the garage, Fri."  The elevator doors shut and the group exchanges suspicious glances.

The third time they caught Tony hiding something the man in question wasn’t even there.  The Compound was being fumigated so everyone had to spend a week at the Tower.  It is a few weeks later on Friday again, though this time it’s a little later in the day.

The group has just arrived at the Tower and what they really want to do is drop their stuff off and relax.  Maybe watch a movie or something.  "God, it’s been too long since we’ve last been here,” Sam says as they walk into the Avenger’s private elevator.

“Where would you like to go?” Friday asks the team as the doors shut behind them.

“Can you take us to our floors and then take us to the common room?” Steve asks.  Without saying anything, the AI takes them to their rooms.  It barely even takes them a minute or two to drop off their stuff and then they’re speeding off towards the common room.  The doors ding open and they all freeze at the sight of a teenage boy sitting at the newly added dining table covered in papers and his backpack.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, do you think I can come down to the lab, now?  I’ve nearly finished all of my homework and I have all week–” the teenage boy freezes as he spins around, eyes wide and body tense as he meets their gazes,  “–end.  Uh, what’re you guys doing here?"  The boy’s voice seems to raise a few octaves as the group walks towards him in confusion.  "Friday?  What’re they doing here?  I thought they were at the Compound!”

“Boss forgot to inform you that Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff are staying at the Tower for the week while the Compound is being fumigated,” Friday says easily, confusing the three Avengers further since only the Avengers, Tony, Pepper, and a few select individuals can use the AI.

“Oh,” Peter says, still tense.  If he weren’t so shocked at suddenly facing three of his heroes, Peter would have been talking their ears off by now.  The elevator doors open before anybody can say anything more.  Tony runs into the room, looking slightly panicked with his watch flashing red and blue, wide brown eyes flashing around.

“Peter, are you okay?  What’s wrong?  My watch is–” Tony stops, his eyes locked on the three Avengers as if he’s just noticed them.  He immediately walks over to Peter, squaring his shoulders as he hides his kid from view.  Peter tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, peeking out from behind his form in a decidedly childish fashion.

“Mr. Stark?” he questions, his eyes wide as his shock at suddenly facing the Avengers fade, excitement taking over him as he grabs onto his father figure’s shirt.  “Are those–What’re they–How–Oh, my God, is that Black Widow?  Why does Captain America have a beard?  Is that the Falcon?”  Tony purses his lips and sighs, moving to the side and wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders retain some form of protection over the kid.

“Yeah, kid,” Tony says.  “That’s Black Widow.  And I don’t know why Cap has a beard, and yes that’s the Falcon.  I forgot to tell you that they’ll be staying here for the week."  A few seconds of awkward silence with the slightly shocked Avengers staring at them.  "Grab your homework and head down to the lab.  I’ll be with you in a minute."  The four Avengers watch as the teenage boy shoulders his backpack, grabs his papers into a pile, and walks into the elevator, all the while staring at the group with wide eyes.  No one speaks until the doors close.

"Tony, what–?” Steve says, at a loss for words.

“You have a kid?” came Sam’s bewildered question.

“He seems sweet,” Natasha says, striding over to the couch and plopping herself down like nothing happened, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv.  Tony clenches his jaw.

“I don’t have a kid, Wilson,” he tells Sam, still tense.

“Then who was that?  Spider-Man?” Sam asks sarcastically, pointing a thumb at the elevator doors with a scoff.  He misses the way Tony’s face pales a little at the name before he crosses his arms over his chest.

“That was my intern,” Tony says steadily, defending himself and trying to cover up his reaction to Sam’s accusation.  “Now if you’ll excuse me," Tony shoulders his way between Sam and Steve, "I have a particularly excited kid to deal with.  See you later."  The elevator doors close behind him a few seconds later, leaving the group to stare at themselves for seconds.

"Who the hell was that?” Sam breaks the ice, waving off Steve’s how-dare-you-cuss-in-front-of-me look,

“I don’t know but did you see the way he reacted when you called the kid Spider-Man?” Nat asks as Steve take their seats in the living room.

“What, you don’t actually think…?” Steve asks, his eyes widening slightly.  “Oh, my God.  I dropped and airport terminal on a kid."  His guilt is soon overshadowed by his outrage at Tony.  "And Tony brought a kid to fight a war."  Steve runs his fingers through his hair.  I need a haircut, he thinks to himself as he stands up and paces around.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Steve,” Natasha says.  “We don’t even know if the kid is actually Spider-Man.”

“But you’re the one that brought up Stark’s reaction!” Sam cuts in, making Natasha glare at him.

“We’ll just talk to Tony about it the next time we see him,” Natasha says, making Steve and Sam nod.

Turns out, the next time they see Tony is the next morning when they’re getting breakfast.  He and the kid are laying on the couch, completely passed out with a random movie playing on the screen, bowls of popcorn strewn about.  Instead of waking up Stark, because they see how tired he’s been since their return, they begin making breakfast.  Not even a few seconds after setting the bacon on the frying pan, they hear a yawn.

They all look over from what they’re doing to see the kid, Peter they think Tony called him, rubbing his eyes and looking around tiredly.  After a few seconds, his eyes snap over to the Avengers.  The familiar colored eyes widen comically at the three of them cooking breakfast before he looks down at Tony, who’s still passed out by his side.  Peter’s relieved when his sudden action didn’t stir him.  Carefully, Peter removes himself from where he is curled under Tony’s arm, throwing the blanket back over the sleeping man.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet as he looks at the three heroes.  “Hi,” he suddenly blurts out, ducking his head down as the sound gains the attention of the heroes and makes his cheeks turn pink.

“Hello,” Natasha says warmly, shocking Sam and Steve since she’s not open with people that she doesn’t know.  “Can you help me shred these potatoes?"  Peter scrambles over to her.

"Of course, Ms. Black Widow Natasha Romanoff ma'am!” Peter stutters out, plopping himself down on the chair and taking the shredder from Natasha.  She stands up to grab the extra cheese grater, sharing a glance with Steve and Sam.

“So, Peter,” Sam says, leaning against the counter as he mixes together the ingredients for pancakes.  “Yesterday Tony told us that you are his intern."  Peter just hums a little, his brows furrowed in concentration as he makes sure he doesn’t cut himself.  Sure, he can go through a whole night of patrol without getting a single scratch, but he’s not so confident about his cooking skills.

"I didn’t know that Tony takes interns,” Steve says, flipping over the bacon.  “How old are you, son?”

“S-seventeen,” Peter stutters out, his face reddening because Captain America is talking to him.  “I just turned seventeen a few weeks ago."  Steve feels his chest tighten a little at that.  That means that Peter was fifteen when they fought.

"When did you become an intern?” Natasha asks.  “You seem pretty young for an intern.”

Peter shrugs.  “About two years ago,” Peter says, sticking to the public story.  “I applied for an internship but didn’t expect to be chosen.  Mr. Stark showed up at my apartment and told me about how he wanted me as an intern despite all of the college student applicants.  He said something about how–”

“–you’re smarter than all of those other kids,” Tony says, making Peter jump and nearly slice his hand on the cheese grater.  Peter turns towards the man with wide eyes, looking like he was caught taking cookies out of the cookie jar.  “Yeah, kid, I’m awake.”

“Morning, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps as the man pushes himself off the couch with a low groan.  Tony grimaces as he stretches, his back popping.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Tony says, ruffling Peter’s curls.  He ignores the looks the three rogues send him.  Tony leans over Peter’s shoulder at the table.  “What’re you making.”

“Uh…” Peter says, looking at Natasha with a questioning look.

“Hashbrowns,” Natasha tells Tony, raising an eyebrow at him.  “Sam’s making pancakes and Steve’s making bacon."  Tony hums and walks over to the coffee pot, beginning to brew a new pot of coffee.  Peter finishes shredding the rest of the potatoes and places the cheese grater in the sink.

"Go wash your hands, Pete, and grab your backpack.  You didn’t finish your homework last night,” Tony says, not looking away from the dark colored liquid that gives him life.  Peter groans and wakes his way into the elevator, muttering under his breath about ‘stupid homework.’

It’s silent in the room for a few moments other than the cartoons on the tv and the sizzling of the bacon.  “So…” Steve says as Steve piles the rest of the bacon onto a plate.  “Is Peter yours?"  Tony sputters into his coffee, setting down his mug and hacking as the hot liquid runs down the wrong pipe.  He looks over at Sam with watering eyes while everyone looks at him in a mix of concern and amusement.

"What?” he croaks, clearing his throat.  “No.  No, of course not.  Guys, I would tell you if I had a son!"  Natasha just hums into her own cup of coffee, tilting an eyebrow at Tony.  Tony just rolls his eyes and groans.  "He’s not mine!”

“Biologically, maybe,” Sam says, flipping the pancakes.  Tony just glowers at him.

“Peter’s not my son,” Tony says sternly.

“But do you think of him as your son?” Natasha pushes.  Tony purses his lips and looks down at his mug, not saying anything.

“Yeah,” Tony says quietly.  Before anyone can react to that, the elevator doors ding open and Peter pops out, mouth running a mile a minute.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!  Do you think you can help me with my calculus homework?  There are some equations that I can’t figure out.  And then I have some chemistry that I think I may need help with, but–"  Tony just smiles down at his mug as Peter continues rambling on about his homework, tossing the bag in the living room and beginning to pick up the mess they left there last night.  The three Avengers exchange a glance.

Prompt 42: “Stop being so cute.”

Idk how I feel about this. It was just a keyboard smash and I really, really, really wanted to include an unimpressed May Parker. Enjoy…I guess?Bisexual Tin Can Man

“At the risk of sounding sexist, I really don’t think lavender is your color.”

Tony pops his head out from behind the fridge to come face to face with May, who is leaned against the lintel with her arms folded coolly over her chest. His head is swiftly followed by none other than Peter’s. The man’s expression is caught somewhere between amusement and embarrassment, while Peter’s is an unabashed and toothy grin. Both are sporting far too much flour on their noses and cheeks to hint at a casual baking accident.

“I get the feeling you’re jealous it looks better on me,” Tony retorts.

May shoots him an angelic smile that he absolutely does not trust. It’s times like this that he can see the uncanny family resemblance between her and the kid. “Oh, on the contrary, you wear it like couture. But if you get one fleck of egg yolk on my favorite apron, I swear to God–”

“Don’t worry, May,” Peter pipes up traitorously. “He was super careful with your apron. So careful, actually, that he wiped his eggy hands on my hair instead–”

Tony rounds on him with a murderous glare. “Watch yourself, Underoos. It’s still in there. I could easily fry an omelette on your head with a blast of my gauntlet.”

“All murders will take place strictly off premises,” May interjects. “We need our deposit back on the apartment, Tony.”

Peter takes advantage of Tony’s speechlessness and the ensuing lull in the conversation to hop off the counter (when did he get up there? May shakes her head at him in fond exasperation) and drop a kiss on May’s cheek. “How was work?”

“Boring. Lots of sick people. Patients who wouldn’t stay in bed. The usual.”

Tony wags a brow at her. “Makes me wonder why you even go out to take care of them when you’ve got a perfect patient right here.” He points in Peter’s direction with his wooden spoon.

“Somebody’s gotta pay me so I get to come home and take care of this one for free from the bottomless love of my heart.” May wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and resists the urge to give him a noogie. “So. Anybody gonna explain to me why we’ve got a flour war going on here? And more importantly, why Tony Stark is standing in my kitchen with a bain-marie?”

“Betty was supposed to be heading the bake sale for decathlon, but she broke her ankle two days ago. I mentioned it to Mr. Stark and he just showed up with bags of baking supplies.”

“Oh, c’mon, kid, you practically forced my arm,” Tony scoffs defensively. “May, he makes it sound like I volunteered for Betty Crocker’s job.”

“I can see nobody forced you to wear that apron,” says May.

Peter holds up four fingers in her line of vision. “Four bags,” he mouths at her with a solemn nod.

“Fine,” Tony huffs. “But I’m not taking any credit for your idea to decorate the cookies with Iron Man masks.”

“Mr. Stark. You wanted to put Spider-Man faces on them.”

“And why not? He’s a local hero. Betty would be proud.”

“Betty,” says Peter petulantly, “would think I have a crush on Spider-Man.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him. “Well, do you, Peter? Do you have a crush on Spider-Man?”

“This is–this is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” May cuts in. “Also, something’s burning.”

Tony lets a colorful string of words and turns back to the stove to scrub at the smoking chocolate with his spoon. Peter flies to his side to turn down the flame.

“Christ on a bicycle, kid. What happened to those super nostrils? Why didn’t you warn me?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You’re in our apartment, Mr. Stark. Something’s always burning here.”

“Hey!” May cuffs him lightly on the back of his head, with little heat behind the gesture. She shoos her nephew away from the stove with a hand. “Honey, there’s a red towel in the linen closet, could you get it for me?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And the stove cleaner from under the sink!”

Peter salutes at her as he walks backward down the hall. “Yes, ma'am!”

“Stop being so cute,” Tony grumbles.

Peter lays a hand dramatically over his chest. “You–you think I’m cute?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yes. Now stop it.”

Another salute and a cheeky grin. “Yes, sir.”

May lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Knowing him, he’s just over the moon because he must’ve sneaked a photo of you in that apron.”

“Oh, dear,” Tony deadpans. “I fear the wrath of Instagram. Whatever will I do with my precious reputation as a flaming bisexual tin can man?”

Both adults start at Peter’s shrill holler from the direction of the bathroom. “Forget the Iron Man masks, I’m decorating the cookies with Bisexual Tin Can Man!”

THIS IS A TRUMPET

THIS IS A TROMBONE

THIS IS A TUBA

AND THIS IS A FRENCH HORN

Slidey Trumpet

Big ass trumpet

Drunk Trumpet

Tony woke and immediately found himself staring straight into a pair of beautiful gray eyes. Tony stopped himself from jumping in surprise, and quickly realised the owner of the eyes was none other than his partner, Stephen Strange. Tony sat up in his bed and swung his legs off the side so he was fully facing Stephen.

“How long have you been there?” Tony asked, genuinely curious as well as a little bit miffed at the possibility that Stephen had just been sitting there without so much as a hug when he got back.

“Not long, I just got back from Kamar-Taj about fifteen minutes ago.” Stephen said as he leaned in in an attempt to give his drowsy boyfriend an affectionate kiss, but was disappointed when Tony shoved his hand in his face.

“No morning kisses for bad boyfriends who don’t wake me up when they get back from their magical Hogwarts missions. The council will be waiting for your argument on the matter.” Tony said grumpily.

“I’m guessing that you are the council that will be deciding my sentence?”

Tony gave an unintelligible grunt that vaguely resembled affirmation to Stephen’s inquiry.

“The defendant would like to ask for leniency regarding the matter, as the defendant found the accusing party to simply be too adorable while sleeping to wake him up. The defendant would also like to explain to the council that the accusing party really does need to get more sleep than he does.” Stephen replied, going along with Tony’s setting.

“The council will take the defendant’s words into consideration.”

Stephen waited for a moment before asking Tony “Has the council decided on the proper penalty for the defendant’s case?”

“The council has unanimously decided that the penalties for the defendant’s actions will include making a cup of coffee for the accusing party and one hug.”

“Both can be arranged. Which would you like first?”

“Coffee.” Tony replied gruffly, still a bit groggy and grumpy. He then softly added “Please.” Stephen got up to make a mug of coffee for the both of them, and upon his return the pair shared a hug, and then a kiss tasting strongly of coffee.

———————————————————————

Listen, I know you may look at this and be like “Wait, a Sherlock crossover?? That’s uh…”

But no, watch the whole thing because you’ll understand why they used it, and the music? And the editing? This is maybe the prettiest and most romantic Ironstrange video I’ve seen.

It’s also the only video I know that visually shows the popular “Strange falls for Tony during those 14 million time loops” fanfic trope, as well as a new trope I didnt even know I needed. Seeing that with my actual eyeballs is worth it, but I just love the whole thing.

It also manages to contextualualize Strange’s final action with even more tragedy, if you can believe it.

Seriously I can’t even watch it without tearing by the end. Gorgeous.

Im makng this song my ringtone.

Shuri: Yeah, I feel you. I dropped my pencil after saying that was all bs but then the lead broke, so all hail the watcher.

Did anyone say, MULTIVERSE?